Come Along with Me
by thecollegiatedork
Summary: Because even vampire kings get sick.


Vampire kings don't get sick—at least, for three quarters of the year.

There comes a time however, otherwise known as winter, when the branches become brittle and the winds come in from the north, and along with it, the notorious Aaa flu.

It was the bringer of the Aaa-choos, the herald of nights spent making chicken soup and curled up under blankets feeling generally miserable.

Amongst its victims: Marshall Lee, the vampire king.

* * *

Needless to say, when Marshall Lee woke up one crisp winter morning to the sniffles and a terrible pounding in his skull, he was not pleased.

"Math!" he cursed, partly because he felt crappy and partly because he had parties to crash that night—namely Gumball's Royal Jubilee, which he had teased his boyfriend about for the lame name before accepting the invitation anyways because it was _Gumball_ and besides, Marshall could never resist the lure of a party.

After lying in bed contemplating his choices, Marshall decided that he had faced worse in his thousand years of undead existence and damn if he was going to let a little cold get in the way of a little fun.

* * *

The thing about being sick was that flying took up more energy than Marshall would like.

"I hope Gumbutt appreciates what I go through for him," Marshall grumbled halfheartedly as he clumsily climbed down his bedroom ladder with the awkward weight of his bass on his shoulders.

Leaves fluttered about Marshall's ankles as he began picking his way on foot through the woods to the Candy Kingdom.

Minutes of walking later, Marshall found that he could appreciate travelling beneath the branches for a change.

After all, the surrounding trees made for fantastic acoustics and the slowness of walking created a rather pleasant atmosphere that Marshall started to like, despite the fact that he'd regretted not bringing a few extra tissues along when his nose started running.

Then it began to rain. Mathing perfect.

Marshall tried not to feel like the wet rat he was sure he looked like when he appeared at Gumball's castle doors.

The first thing Marshall noticed was that it was warm. Like, gloriously warm, with the added bonus that it didn't feel like direct sunlight burning his skin.

The second thing was Gumball.

Marshall's favorite candy prince had cleaned up nicely in a suit—the jacket of which he tried to drape over Marshall's rain drenched clothes the minute the vampire king stepped through the doors.

"Glob, Marsh. You should've brought your umbrella with you or something. Come in and get warmed up. I think I've got some spare clothes—"

"You worry too much, Bubs," Marshall laughed, trying to brush off the outrageously pink suit jacket practically being thrown at him—partly because he didn't _do_ pink, but mostly because he had to sneeze.

Try as he might to keep it from happening, Marshall did in fact sneeze, and into Gumball's jacket no less.

Immediately, Gumball stilled, finally pausing long enough to take in everything about Marshall's appearance, every hint clicking in his mind.

"Eugh, my bad," Marshall sniffled, barely audible above the general noise of the candy people and princes of other kingdoms hanging out farther back in the hall. "Weather's been nasty, and not in the good way, you know." Marshall frowned, and as subtly as he could, hugged Gumball's jacket closer to himself—he doubted the candy prince would want it back.

"I gather," Gumball said thoughtfully, observing Marshall's little gesture. "All the more reason to get you some dry things. I can't imagine that it's pleasant to be going about in those when you're sick."

"Who said anything about being sick? I'm not sick." Marshall was quick to deny—the only thing worse than a usually slightly worried Gumball was an overbearingly motherly one.

" _I_ said something about being sick—which you are," Gumball replied in his matter-of-fact manner as he began to climb up the stairs to his royal chambers with Marshall in tow.

"You know, out of context, you dragging me off so suddenly can be… questionable," Marshall quipped, complete with suggestive eyebrows and all.

"Oh please," Gumball huffed, before opening and closing the doors to his chambers.

Marshall was left waiting by the nightstand as Gumball began rummaging through his closet.

"I don't get why you're so willing to play caretaker for somebody _who's fine_ —" Marshall couldn't help but try again, curling his cold hands into fists to prevent them from trembling, "-when this is like the one day you can chill out some."

"Like I'm going to leave you soaking and bedraggled at my doorstep," Gumball scoffed at the idea.

"Aww, so princely and noble of you," Marshall teased in reply as Gumball handed him a towel and change of wear and gestured towards the changing screen—apparently made out of waffles, Marshall realized—in the corner.

"Or I could just have a moral compass like anyone else," Gumball suggested.

"Mmm, boring," Marshall dismissed, slipping on the t-shirt he was secretly glad Gumball had picked out, mostly because it was the one Marshall had given to the prince.

At the sight of the sweatpants, Marshall scowled.

It was a baby pink, complete with a tiny tag sewn in the back proclaiming that it was made of eighty percent cotton candy.

"You didn't have any other pants besides these?" Marshall had to stand up on tiptoes to peer accusingly over the screen at Gumball.

"They're thermal, Mr. Grateful, and they'll help with your chills."

"What chills?" Marshall asked absentmindedly, as he begrudgingly peeled off his wet jeans for sweatpants, which indeed, felt like cotton heaven.

Damn Gumball and his atrocious sense of color yet his amazing choice of quality fabrics.

* * *

Marshall Lee had to admit that Gumball really knew how to throw good parties.

Though there were hundreds of candy people in attendance, along with princes from neighboring kingdoms, the atmosphere still managed to feel intimate somehow, like those first waking moments into consciousness or Couples Only Movie Night.

At the far end of the hall sat a glowing sphere upon which a number of guests were crowded about.

Marshall glanced at Gumball in question, all the while reveling the pulsating warmth emanating from the strange device.

"I made it so the castle can be kept warm without the hazard of a fire," Gumball explained, as he found a place for them to sit next to the sphere.

"Marshall!" Fionna exclaimed happily as the vampire found himself shoulder-to-shoulder with the adventuress.

"Boy, what are you wearing?" Cake asked, peering quizzically at him.

"Ah, just leave it, Cake," Marshall muttered, blushing in spite of himself.

Cake merely laughed.

* * *

Later, the details of the rest of the evening would blur in Marshall's fevered memory, however he would remember leeching the red from some tomato soup at Gumball's insistence and playing a few songs from his axe and being pleasantly surprised by the almost husky quality his voice had taken on thanks to the congestion in his chest (don't judge).

Marshall wouldn't remember falling asleep against Gumball or being carried to the candy prince's bed.

At five in the morning, Marshall would wake, curling away from the dawn filtering through the curtains.

He would be confused, momentarily unsure of where he was, before his gaze would fall on Gumball, fast asleep on the other side of the bed, facing away from the vampire.

Marshall could leave, but he wouldn't want to. Not at all.


End file.
